


grass grew high, i laid down

by sternenrotz



Series: broken hearts hurt but they make us strong (queer horror verse) [15]
Category: The Horrors (Band)
Genre: Backstory, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Trans Male Character, may be triggering, very frank discussion of the previous tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 12:39:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5334422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sternenrotz/pseuds/sternenrotz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Faris goes back to Josh's study hall the morning after they first have sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	grass grew high, i laid down

**Author's Note:**

> titled after "Nothing Gets Crossed Out" by Bright Eyes.
> 
> set in late 2005, right after this fic ([x](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4935415)) and before this fic ([x](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10040342)).
> 
> Josh currently identifies as a trans man, while Faris identifies as a cis man. asides from the major content warning for rape, there's a minor one for a brief instance of a trans character being deadnamed. as usual, usage of the term "bio man/woman" is due to "cis" not being in use widely during the time period this fic is set in.

“Me and Di met on the internet,” Josh exposits.

They’re walking back from the Sainsbury’s nearest to his hall, after an awkward silent shopping trip and an even more awkward and silent bus ride, when Faris finally decides to make conversation and ask him a question. Josh always thought _he_ was bad with people. Still, he doesn’t regret accepting that offer. Maybe Faris’ awkward lanky presence alone will be enough to keep his thoughts from drifting off to the weird place.

“It’s almost three years ago now. We were on this transgender support forum, and we were both really into music and way younger than everyone else on that site, so we started sending emails and then chatting on MSN and talking on the phone. Then I moved for uni and she was coming up to London for some band, so we met in real life, too.”

Faris nods and makes a humoured noise. “You know, when you said on the internet, for a split second I thought you were gonna say you met her on MySpace.”

Josh snorts. “Yeah, no, I don’t really use MySpace.” As he says it, it occurs to him that Faris must have been joking. Still, he adds, “Wouldn’t really want to meet most people off that site in real life, either.”

“Understandable,” Faris says in that deadpan no-inflection voice he has. “Don’t really use it myself, either. I was just… worrying you’d be the kind of person who frequents MySpace.”

Well, Josh definitely hasn’t heard that one before. “It’s the hair, isn’t it?”

Faris laughs, short and quiet, and they turn a corner.

“My hall’s down the road from here.”

Josh feels he should point it out since he’s already making Faris carry all his groceries. Even if, in all fairness, he’s got his guitar case on his back, which is definitely heavier than two bags worth of shopping.

“That building there, see?”

“Okay,” Faris says, “So…” and he trails off like he’s waiting for Josh to carry on with what he was initially expositing on.

“Yeah, then a year ago she moved to London with Joe, and then I met him, too.”

Josh gives a shrug as he walks, and he figures since he already slept with Faris, technically, he might as well tell the rest of that story.

“We were hanging out all the time at first, since we finally lived in the same city and stuff. This one night we were at a bar, and after I went back with them to their flat, and then we all had sex on their bed,” he says.

It’s maybe a little _too_ nonchalant because he’s pretty sure Faris’ eyes actually threaten to pop out of their sockets for a second.

“It’s been like that pretty much ever since.”

Faris doesn’t respond for a split second, face still caught in a strange twist. “So are you guys, like…?”

“A triad?” Josh suggests. “No, it’s not like _that_. Joe and Dilys, they’re in love, sappy puppy love. And then there’s me, I…”

“You just like shagging?” Faris asks. He’s got some weird grin on his face that’s not so much creepy or mean-spirited as it gives off the impression that he doesn’t quite know _how_ to smile.

“Yeah,” Josh says. “Pretty much what I wanted to say.” He hides the laugh that threatens to slip out behind his hand.

“That’s…” Faris says. He pauses again like he’s having trouble with picking out the words. “That’s cool, you know? If it’s cool for you.”

“Yeah, it is. Better than picking up birds in clubs.”

Faris just laughs, and then they’re this close to his hall, so Josh points it out again.

“We’re here.”

They take the elevator up to the third floor, and Josh leads Faris to his actual room.

“This your room?”

Josh thought that one would be obvious. Still, he says, “Yeah. Look, I have to bring my groceries back to the kitchen, so do you want to just wait here?”

“Okay. Sure.”

“Okay,” Josh repeats, and he takes the bags from Faris’ hands. They’re _really_ pretty heavy. “I won’t be long, okay?”

Faris just nods.

When he starts walking down the corridor towards the communal kitchen, Josh can see from the very corner of his eye how Faris folds himself down into a cube and pulls his sketchbook out from his pockets. Maybe he _should_ take his time on this one. He’s lucky enough to not run into anyone else on his way. Even then, he doesn’t hurry with sorting in his groceries and labelling them with post-its. Maybe he even tidies the cabinets and the fridge while he’s at it. By the time that he gets back, Faris is still sitting on the floor across from his room, still preoccupied with his doodling.

“So,” Josh says.

“So,” Faris says back.

He extends one hand like he expects Josh to pull him back up from the floor. Josh does, even if he’s not exactly _strong_ himself. Faris is densely packed muscle around gangly limbs, and a lot heavier than he really looks like. When he’s back on his feet, Faris’ eyes catch on something on the door behind him. Josh doesn’t even have to check to know it’s the dry-erase board with his name and _(BEAR CAVE)_ scrawled onto it.

“Ready to enter the bear’s cave?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool.” Josh has to fumble for his key in his pocket.

“Evelyn, huh?” Faris pronounces it like the Waugh poet guy.

“Most people just ignore it, you know?” Josh says back.

He kind of dreads that he’s standing with his back turned so Faris can’t see the look in his eyes.

“Sorry.”

The door lock snicks open. Josh’s kind of hesitant about letting Faris walk in after him, the type of hesitance that’s more a feeling of being inadequate than anything else. At least, he’s pretty sure that Tom’s and Faris’ flat is _slightly_ less shitty than his room. In any case, they definitely have a bigger bed.

Josh sets down his guitar case for good, finally, and kneels down to stow it into the space under the bed. He can tell Faris is watching him. At least, he’s staring at all the clutter and the posters Josh has on his walls, which is pretty much the same thing, really.

“Can you shut the door, please?”

It’s just as much a genuine request as it’s an excuse to make Faris do something other than _stare_ at things. The door clicks shut just when Josh’s picked himself back up off the floor and seated himself on the bed, conveniently enough.

“Well,” he says. “This is my room.”

“The bear cave,” Faris repeats once again.

His eyes dart across the wall, across the pictures of bands cut from magazines, and the big periodic table poster he got from Dilys that’s hung over the desk. Josh can’t help but feel self-conscious again.

But then Faris says, “Nice in here.”

“Thanks.” Josh looks all the way around the room, which isn’t exactly difficult from where he’s sat, and adds, “Bit small, innit?”

Faris shrugs and starts to peel himself out of his coat before he plants himself on the chair. “I like it.”

He stretches his lanky legs and crosses them at the ankle, and like that, they’re almost invading the space that Josh already claimed for his _own_ legs.

“It’s cozy.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Josh says and reflexively moves his legs off to one side.

His hair feels too heavy on his head, even considering he showered yesterday, crusted with sweat and other things.

“D’you need to shower or anything?” he asks.

Faris’ gaze flits across the room, like he’s trying to find his focus. He says, “Yeah, shower would be good.”

“Right.”

Josh leans off the bed to get the crate where he keeps his toiletries from under his tiny sink.

“I’m going to have a shower too, do you need anything fancy? Conditioner?”

“No,” Faris says. There’s some tone in his voice that Josh can’t completely place, but that sounds an awful lot like he’s _increduled_ by the concept of being offered conditioner. “Just soap and I’m good, thanks.”

“Okay.”

Josh takes a second to gather his own toiletries and the towel before he passes Faris a bar of soap. It’s one of those little sample ones his mum picked up from a hotel on some family holiday, still wrapped in plastic foil.

“No worries, it’s unused.” _Obviously_ it is. He passes Faris a towel, as well. “Here’s a towel.”

“Cheers.”

“Okay,” Josh says, more as a filler word than anything else. “Look, I’m going to take a shower, too, so I’m just gonna leave the door unlocked, alright?”

“Yeah.”

“And the floor below us is unisex, so it’d probably be for the best if you…”

“If I take a shower there. Got it.”

“Yeah. They’re not _strict_ about bringing blokes over, obviously, but you might freak some of the girls on the floor out.”

“Yeah.” Faris knits his brows together, like he’s not completely okay with some of the implication of what Josh’s just said. Josh’s not going to think about that yet. “So, I’m off.”

“Okay. Do you need some trackie bottoms or anything, too?”

“I think I’m good.”

Josh takes a few more seconds to gather some pyjamas for himself and a clean pair of pants from the closet, too, before he leaves as well. He takes his time in the shower, even more than he usually does. There’s still a twinge when he washes between his legs, much more apparent than it was while walking, which is _ridiculous_ , and also one of those things Josh doesn’t want to dwell on for too long. He lets the conditioner sit in his hair for extra long and takes his time with washing his face, _exfoliating_ and _rinsing the pores_ or whatever you’d call it. He only gets out of the shower when a girl he vaguely knows starts rapping her fist on the bathroom door.

Faris is already back in his room by the time Josh walks in, sitting Indian style on the bed and scribbling into that sketchbook of his. Of course he is. He’s wearing a pair of Josh’s trackie bottoms, for some reason. Even with his legs folded in that position it’s obvious they’re too big on his hips. He looks different with his hair wet, too, brings out the contours and straight lines of his face more.

“Hey,” Josh says when he drops down onto the chair. He doesn’t feel like he should sit next to Faris on the bed, as if that would send some sort of message he wasn’t intending to send.

“Hey,” Faris says back, and he doesn’t quite tear his eyes from his notebook. “You really took your time in there.”

“Yeah.” Josh crosses his arms in front of his middle and hugs himself, so to speak. He says, “Wanted to relax for a bit. Get _really_ clean.”

Faris laughs at that, but not in a way that implies he took it to be in any way suggestive. “Did Tom…?”

“Yeah, he did.” Josh lets that stupid snorting laugh slip out again.

“It was kind of hard to ignore the way you shrieked when he did.”

“Yeah.” Josh reflexively thumbs at the inside of his arm, the soft part. “The first five-way you have to coordinate is always the hardest.”

He listens closely for Faris’ emotion when he laughs. Just as he suspected, it’s a nervous, hollow laugh, so evidently he’s gone too far with that last comment.

“What about you? Your shower, I mean. Found everything?”

“Yeah, I did.” Faris turns down towards his sketchbook and his trackie-clad legs once again. Josh shudders to think that Faris might have gone through his closet to find those trackie bottoms. “Was a lot roomier than my own shower, too.”

“Glad you had a good time, then.” Josh laughs.

For a little bit, it’s silent. Josh makes a point of not watching Faris, but rather the window next to him. Outside, the trees rustle with some birds flying overhead. It’s not much of a view, actually.

“So,” Faris says eventually, to his pen where it’s moving on the page rather than to Josh. “Any particular reason you invited me over, or are we just going to sit here and be silent at each other?”

“Pretty much,” Josh says. Well, he was obviously thinking the same thing, but it wasn’t a thought that really _bothered_ him. “I just really didn’t want to be alone with my thoughts, is all.”

Faris finally raises his head at that to give a very sincere nod. Still, Josh feels he could do better. Be a better host.

“We can get takeaway,” he suggests. “Or watch a movie.”

Right then, he realises he’s doing it _again_. Really, he should’ve seen this coming, since he already had his hand this close to his tit to begin with, and he didn’t put his binder back on after showering. He’s really not that bothered, and Faris doesn’t seem to be bothered enough with Josh absently squeezing his own tit to make him stop, either.

“Yeah, I guess.”

 _Then_ , Josh realises something else. It’s stupid, really, but Faris’ eyes are still locked on his. Maybe it’s just that he’s seen them naked by now, so looking at Josh’s tits has lost much of its appeal. But maybe it’s something else. Josh swivels on his chair so he can get the delivery menus from where he keeps them stashed on his desk.

“D’you prefer Indian or Chinese? Or pizza?”

“Pizza,” Faris says. “I think.”

Josh lets Faris do the ordering since he’s always welcoming any excuse to avoid talking on the phone. Two pizzas, with pepperoni and mushrooms on each. Two big ones, Josh insists.

“Are you sure we can even eat that much pizza?” Faris asks after he’s folded his mobile closed and tucked it into his pocket.

“Don’t underestimate me.” Josh pats his belly to prove his point.

Faris laughs at him, soft and quiet in the back of his mouth. “So, hey,” he says, then. “D’you mind if I take a nap for a bit?”

Before Josh can say anything, he’s already moving to lay his head on the pillow and curl himself into a ball.

“I’m really exhausted, is all.”

He rubs his head into the pillowcase and lets his eyes droop shut. Well, Josh can’t say _no_ to him, can he? He can’t be a bad host.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Okay.”

Faris is one of those people who can fall asleep on command, probably. He curls himself deeper into the bed and just like that, his breathing gets slow and soft and even. For about twenty minutes, Josh figures he should focus on his coursework, but the next thing, he’s craving a fag. Or two or maybe four. He’s careful when he shuts the door, and he goes down to the inner courtyard of his hall to smoke, and then it’s almost time for the pizza to arrive, too.

Maybe it’s the smell of pizza that wakes Faris, or maybe the click of the door opening. Either way, he stirs from his spot on the bed before Josh has made any effort to actually wake him up himself. His hair is a mess when he raises his head, more so than it normally is with how it dried in his sleep. Makes him look like a strange wild animal, just a little, especially when he blinks his eyes, big and dark and sleepy. Josh can’t help but laugh.

“‘s the pizza here?” Faris asks. “What’s so funny?”

“You look like,” Josh starts. “Like a confused exotic bird, like this.”

Faris snorts and shifts on the mattress to sit up, so Josh can sit down next to him with the pizzas in hand.

“Haven’t heard that one before.”

“It’s your hair, you know? And your nose kind of looks like a beak, so…”

Actually, he’s pretty sure he saw Faris wearing feathers in his hair just the other week, but he’s willing to chalk that up to general art student eccentricity.

“Watch it,” Faris says. He takes the first box of pizza out of Josh’s hands to wrangle it open. “No, I was being serious, I’ve actually never been called a _bird_.”

Josh doesn’t truly know what to say. He accepts when Faris hands him the first piece of the pizza. It’s the good kind with gooey stringy cheese and grease shining on the sausage and a crispy crust, and he takes a big bite. It’s probably the best pizza he’s ever eaten, actually.

“Unless you count getting asked if I was a brer or a bird on the street once, I mean,” Faris says, then, still muffled by the pizza in his mouth. He laughs, and the way he’s said it makes it sound like it’s a joke for him, one of those elaborate ones with a proper setup and a punchline and all.

Josh furrows his brows and pretends to give him the skeptical once-over. “Yeah, mate, I can’t really see that happen.”

Either he’s bad at putting derision into his voice or Faris is just bad at picking up on it, because he does the most genuine shrug. “You’d be surprised.”

“I mean, you’re pretty much the ideal bio man,” Josh says back. “Stature wise.”

That, incidentally, is precisely what he meant.

“You’d be surprised how many people think you must secretly be a woman just ‘cause you’re wearing eye makeup and skinny jeans, is what I’m saying.”

Just as soon as he finishes saying it, his eyes pop open wider than they _should_ , Josh reckons. He gets a general look of painful self-awareness on his face. Josh can’t help himself, he splutters with laughter and only barely raises his hand to his mouth in time to not spray chewed-up pizza all over everything.

Faris says, “Shit, sorry.”

Josh just keeps on laughing. When he finally catches himself, Faris still has that same expression on his face but distinctly more _concerned_ , which looks stupid enough Josh’s this close to laughing again.

Then Josh says, “You really…” He stops to fight off another wave of cackles that’s about to hiccup out, and says, “Really didn’t think this through, did you.”

Faris says, “Yeah. Sorry.”

For a little bit, they eat in silence, until the pizza’s gone from Pac Man-shaped three-quarters to just a single quarter left of it.

“Are you going to eat that?” Faris asks.

“I was gonna,” Josh starts. “Unless you… do you want to eat it?”

“No, I’m full.”

“Okay.”

Josh takes the last quarter out from the box and lays the two pieces of pizza on top of each other, crusts on the outside. Of course, he can tell Faris is looking at him.

Into the room, he says, “pizza sandwich.”

Faris just laughs. “So, I still owe you money for the pizzas, right?”

“Yeah, it’s…” Josh takes a second to think back to how much he actually paid, and he says, “It’s sixteen quid for the both of them, so.”

Faris scrambles to get up to find his wallet, presumably, and Josh has to stop him with a hand on his knee.

“You can just pay me later, it’s okay.”

“Okay.”

Josh hums in accord and turns back to his pizza sandwich, and when that’s gone as well, it stays quiet. It’s that type of quiet where Josh’s got something to say, but he’s not sure how to go about it. He’s pretty sure Faris does, too, the type of quiet that’s not _awkward_ but close enough. Faris digs his notebook out from wherever he put it when Josh decides to actually say something.

“Well. Now I’m full,” he says, looking down at himself. He pats his belly, both for emphasis and just because it’s there and soft.

“Told you we shouldn’t order two pizzas.”

“We can just eat the other one later,” Josh says back, and then immediately wonders when he decided there was going to be a _later_.

Faris shrugs and shuffles over to sit against the headboard and pull his knees up, so he can pull his sketchbook up to his face as well. “Maybe.”

Maybe Josh should get back to his coursework, now, too.

“Sorry,” Faris says when it’s been quiet for long enough. “D’you think it’s rude if I just sit here and draw?”

“No, it’s. I don’t mind, it’s cool,” Josh says. It’d probably be ruder if he didn’t let Faris do his weirdly compulsive scribbling and just forced him to sit around in awkward silence. “I’ve got coursework anyway.”

Well, he does.

So, Josh spends the next two hours or so at his desk and finishes just about everything he’s got due in the next week. Faris keeps on sitting in his corner drawing. It’s deadly quiet, save for the scritching of pens on paper. Josh realises he _really_ should’ve put some music on, or maybe not brought someone back who’s more socially awkward than he is.

Finally, he shuts his textbook and packs his bag.

“So. D’you want to watch a movie now?”

“What?” Faris’ head shoots up a little too quickly. “Oh. Yeah, yeah. Sure.”

“Cool.”

Josh climbs back onto the bed, laptop in hand to start it up. “What d’you want to watch?”

“I don’t know, I’m not picky,” Faris says when he shuffles back down the bed so he can sit actually next to Josh. “What movies d’you have?”

“I have,” Josh says, and adds in a beat to pretend to think. “Lots of movies.”

Which most definitely isn’t a deflection tactic to avoid mentioning that most of the movies he’s got on his hard drive are cartoons or action flicks, most definitely nothing that could impress a pretentious art student.

“Informative,” Faris deadpans. “You pick.”

“Okay. D’you want to watch Harry Potter?”

It’s the first movie Josh could think of, and also one of the less embarrassing ones he’s got, probably.

Faris knits his brow and says, in his most insistent voice, “ _No_.”

“Come _on_.” Josh sticks out his bottom lip and does his best attempt at puppy eyes. “You can’t tell me you don’t like Harry Potter.”

Faris looks at him with still the same expression on his face and starts to say, “I don’t…”

Josh interrupts him. “Come on, you miserable bird, everyone likes Harry Potter.”

He almost doesn’t expect Faris to give in, and definitely doesn’t expect him to do it this soon, but Faris just says, “Fine. Since it’s your flat.”

“Okay.”

Josh pulls up the movie and leans into Faris’ side, and that’s it. “I just put on the first one. If that’s okay.”

“I don’t like them all equally,” Faris says back. He talks right into Josh’s hair, voice muffled with it and all.

“Then we’ll watch them all in a row.”

Faris laughs. The movie actually starts, and Josh adjusts the screen to see better.

“D’you want to cuddle?”

“Yeah. Why not.”

Faris makes it sound like he doesn’t truly _want_ to cuddle, but it’s the only thing to do right now. Still, his hand is big and warm when he sets it on Josh’s hip, and Josh only really craves the human contact anyway. Besides, his bed really isn’t ideal for cuddling when there’s also a laptop on it.

“Like so?”

“Yeah.” Josh properly puts his head on Faris’ shoulder and reaches out to turn the volume on his laptop on. “Quiet now.”

They’re up to the part where Harry and Ron meet on the Hogwarts Express. Faris is still so quiet, his breathing so even that Josh would almost think he’s fallen asleep. Almost, because his thumb is rubbing tiny circles onto Josh’s hip, and he actually chuckles under his breath when Harry’s chocolate frog hops out of the window.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Faris huffs out something that sounds like a very bad attempt to cover a laugh. “It’s terrible.”

“It’s _not_ terrible,” Josh insists.

“This is kid’s movies, how can you enjoy this stuff?”

“You _muggle_ ,” Josh says back.

He giggles, and Faris laughs along, and it sounds just _right_. It’s comfortable, just for a second, before that stupid thought he had earlier creeps back into his head.

“I’ve a question,” he says, and he leans forward to press pause on the video.

When he turns his head, Faris looks at him with the most genuinely confused doe-eyed look on his face. Maybe like he’s about to complain that _Josh_ was the one who suggested they were going to watch this movie in the first place, or something similarly trivial.

“Yeah,” Faris says after it’s been a long second and Josh _still_ hasn’t gotten his question out of his mouth. “Shoot.”

“Do you,” Josh starts, and he moves to sit with his knees to his tits so he can properly look at Faris when he continues. “Do you see me any differently now? After last night?”

“What d’you mean?” Faris asks.

Josh isn’t sure whether he says it to be obtuse or if he’s actually that thick. Considering it’s Faris, it might be either.

“You _know_.” He huffs out a very genuine sigh and says, “If you see me as less of a man since we’ve had sex.”

“What?” Faris’ eyes pop open that little bit wider, and he says, “No. No, of course not, I’d never.”

“You’ve been acting weird, though.”

“Yeah, well,” Faris says. “I mean, it was pretty weird what happened, right?”

Josh shrugs. Well, it was for him, too, although he hopes he and Faris don’t have the same reason for it.

“Are you a survivor?”

Just as soon as the question’s out of his mouth, Josh remembers every conversation about respecting boundaries and questions that you shouldn’t _just ask_ people he ever had. He already regrets it before Faris can even respond.

“What?”

“Nevermind.”

“You mean, like,” Faris says, “Of cancer, or something?”

“So you’re not,” Josh says. It’s a relief, really, but in some strange way, it’s also not.

Faris says, “I don’t know what you mean.”

At the same time, Josh says, “Sorry, I just thought that you were. After you were so weird this morning.”

“Yeah, well. I’m not used to having sex with people I’ve just met and I’m trying to make friends with.”

Okay. _That_ hits a nerve. The thing is Josh doesn’t know Faris well enough to judge whether he meant for it to or not.

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Faris says. “But it was really weird for me.”

“You said that before.” Josh feels like a twat as soon as he’s said that, too. “Di told me all about your naked freakout in her kitchen, by the way.”

“She did,” Faris says. It’s obviously not a question, but his voice still falters with uncertainty when he does.

“Yeah, she did. You were in the bathroom for a bit, and we were out on the balcony smoking, and that’s when she told me what happened.”

“Did she tell anyone else?”

Josh quirks an eyebrow at Faris. Well, the question seems like a pretty unlikely one to ask in this moment, or at least not the one Josh would have asked first.

“No, she didn’t. Just me.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah. So that’s the main reason why I thought that you were… you know.”

“I know what?”

“A survivor,” Josh repeats. He turns the word over in his mouth and swallows, his throat too dry to keep talking and elaborate. “You know, of sexual assault?”

Faris’ face does a weird thing, then. His eyes go wide and all his features seem to _drop_. “No, I didn’t know that. But I’m not.”

“Okay.” Josh leans forward to put the movie back on, because now he feels like they’ve both said too much.

Then Faris asks, “Are you?”

Josh bites his lip. “That’s none of your business.”

Which means that to Faris, the answer is automatically _yes_ now.

Faris doesn’t say anything, and Josh actually turns the movie back on. The silence between them is cold and awkward, and it shouldn’t be, not after this. But it is, so much, like a huge rift has opened up between where their bodies touch. Josh really wishes he could keep his big mouth shut once in awhile.

“Hey. Kiss me.”

Maybe that’ll make it better.

Faris, in his doe-eyed confused little voice, says, “Okay.”

Josh likes kissing, and he likes kissing Faris, too. He likes how soft and full his lips are and how gently he moves, and breathes, and strokes over Josh’s hip where he’s put his hand again. It’s a very gentle kiss, and it’s over sooner than Josh would have expected.

“Better,” Josh says when they break apart.

Faris looks at him with the most expectant look in his eyes. Josh places his head on Faris’ shoulder, back where it belongs, and he readjusts his legs to be comfy. If his fingers end up tangled with Faris’ between them, too, he’s not going to complain. On the screen, the silhouette of the castle Hogwarts appears in black and white. It’s better, just a little.

When they’re halfway through the third movie. after they’ finished the second pizza, it stops being that. _Better_ , that is. The rift’s there again, even with their linked hands, and this time it’s brought disgust with it, a cold, heavy mass of it that sits in the pit of Josh’s gut. The movie’s at a tense bit, but he hasn’t been focussing on it either way and Faris wasn’t keen on watching in the first place. He should maybe say something.

Josh says, “It wasn’t really rape, I guess.”

“Josh?”

“When I just moved to London I used to do bar at this goth club, before I took the job at Fatal Femmes. They hired me ‘cause I fit in with their _look_ , and I got my bartending license just for that job. The staff were fun but the actual club was pretty seedy. Lots of fetish wear and hooking up in the toilets stuff.”

Faris hasn’t said anything so far and Josh keeps on talking. He stares off into the dark of his room past the screen, and he lets his mouth keep on working.

“So I used to go home with the patrons when my shift was over sometimes, and I still have my female name on my legal stuff, obviously, so I worked there as the bar girl. I was the only girl behind the bar most of the time, and the uniform was just a black t-shirt and simple black bottoms, so I was always wearing tight low-cut tops and stuff.”

Maybe Josh didn’t need to tell Faris that. He’s not sure why he had to mention any of this in the first place.

“I actually went home with patrons a _lot_.”

Definitely not because he’s stalling or anything.

Faris doesn’t laugh.

“So one night, there’s this guy, and I’m nineteen and he’s twenty-four or twenty-five or something, and it’s close to closing time, and the crowd’s thinning out so I can just talk to him in front of the bar. And it’s…”

Josh has to take a sharp breath and swallow and isn’t sure why. His throat feels too tight.

“Like I said, it’s a pretty sexual place, so we’re flirting and he’s telling me about how he’d like to slap me around while he’s fucking me, and give me bruises and tie me up and stuff, and you know I’m into that stuff, so I go home with him.”

“Josh,” Faris says once again, a bit more insistent this time around. “I don’t need to hear this.”

Still, Josh’s mouth is working now and he’s not going to stop it.

“It’s fun, you know, and then he takes my clothes off and he sees I’ve got hairy legs and underarms, and he starts telling me I must be secretly a lesbian and I needed some cock to cure me. I didn’t know if he’s really sexist and homophobic or if he had a weird fetish for that kind of stuff, but I still liked it, ‘cause he was doing all that stuff I get off on, so I let him fuck me anyway. Like, I went all the way to Bromley for this, so I figured I might as well enjoy it.”

There’s a choked-off noise somewhere close to a sob, and it takes Josh a second to realise he’s the one who it came from. Apparently, he’s crying, but he wipes the moisture away as soon as he realises.

Once again, Faris says, “Josh, I’m serious. You don’t have to tell me about this.”

“And then at some point I stopped really enjoying it, and I don’t know if he was really bad at this BDSM stuff or if he really knew I didn’t want it like this. But he didn’t stop and I didn’t tell him to, so…”

He wipes his face again and his hand comes off clean. At least he’s glad he didn’t bother with makeup today. When he casts a quick glance towards Faris, his eyes are blown big again, but with something that’s obviously shock this time around.

“Josh.”

“It’s complicated like that,” he says into the void of the dark room. “I quit my job the next day and this girl got me the job at Femmes instead, so…”

Once again, Faris asks, “Josh?”

“I didn’t really meet any bio guys anymore after that, so last night, when we were…”

From the corner of his eye, he can see Faris still staring at him with his big wide eyes. Josh decides to swallow down the next two words of what he was about to say.

“… It was my first time in ages, so that’s why I started freaking out, but I tried to play it off. I just assumed maybe it was something like that for you, so.” He wipes his eyes again, not crying anymore but still tear-stained, and says, “So that’s the answer to your question if I’m a survivor or not. The answer is it’s complicated.”

His voice cracks _again_ , and Josh hates himself for it. When Faris puts one arm across his shoulders, he doesn’t truly want to pull away, and yet, he can’t help but shudder.

“Hey,” Faris says. “Josh? You okay?”

It’s a stupid question considering Josh’s pretty obviously _not_ okay, and he just bites his lip again.

“I don’t think it was _really_ rape. Like, it’s so easy when you read it on paper, like in the zines I used to read, it was always _no means no_ and _if you don’t consent it’s rape_ and _you can’t consent if you’re heavily inebriated_. But it’s complicated, ‘cause I did consent to the sex and I never said _no_ , and I liked most of it and got off on it, and after I slept at his flat. It’s just not black and white like that.”

He leans over into Faris’ side, a bit closer so he doesn’t have to sit up by himself anymore, and he wipes his eyes again even when there’s nothing there.

“So it was probably just really bad sex or something like that.” He’s ran out of things to say.

When Faris squeezes his shoulder tighter and lays his head on top of Josh’s, as good as he can, he really, truly doesn’t mind.

“I’m sorry.” Josh’s ashamed of how foreign his voice comes out when he says it.

“You don’t need to be,” Faris says back. It’s strange to hear him say that with the inflection still missing from his voice.

“I’m sorry I’m such a mess,” Josh insists.

He lets Faris squeeze his shoulder even tighter for a long few seconds of silence. It’s enough to comfort him, even if his chest feels too tight as if he’s about to start crying once again.

“It’s okay,” Faris says, then. “You know it wasn’t your _fault_ , right?”

“Of course,” Josh says back. He doesn’t mean for it to come out like _that_ , harsh and snarly and loud. “Of course I know it wasn’t my fault. It was him who did it, not me.”

Faris doesn’t say anything, just keeps holding Josh in one arm and being warm. His heart rate is fast and booming where Josh can hear it, the same way that his own currently is. It’s comforting, but it’s not comforting enough.

“I want a fag.”

“Okay,” Faris says. “D’you need me to come along?”

“Would be nice.”

They detangle themselves off the mattress, and Josh finally pauses the movie and shuts his laptop before he pulls on his coat and his favourite pair of Converse. He grabs his cigs where he left them on the desk and watches Faris finish tying his boots, and they’re good to go.

“I’m sorry about this,” Faris says when they’re sitting on one of the benches in the inner court.

Josh puffs on his fag. “For what?”

He really hopes what Faris means isn’t _sorry_ in any way that’s related to _pity_. That’s really the last thing he needs.

“Sorry I asked.” He exhales in the middle of the sentence, a white cloud of steam that’s not unlike the cigarette smoke around them. “I mean, sorry that I made you talk about all of this. ‘cause you said you wanted me to take your mind off things or something. And instead I just made you remember what happened to you.”

“It’s okay,” Josh says, and it’s only sort of a lie. It’s only sort of okay. “Was bound to happen sooner or later that I’d remember anyway.”

Faris shrugs in his t-shirt. There’s goose pimples forming on his bare arms and neck.

“Better you than my therapist,” Josh adds, and he laughs, but it’s a fake, creaky laugh that doesn’t even come close to resembling humour. He takes a deep drag from his cig again.

Faris doesn’t say anything, and Josh doesn’t know what else to say. The evening’s quiet and cloudy over them and there’s only one other group of students in the court, some girls Josh has never seen before, so they both stay quiet.

Finally, Josh grinds his first fag out into the metal of the bench and lights a second one.

Faris says, “I’m cold.”

“D’you want my coat?”

“Aren’t you going to get cold?”

“No, it’s okay,” Josh says, and he opens his coat where he was using one arm to hold the fabric as tightly together as it gets. “I’m warm enough as it is.”

The cold night air really isn’t as bad as Josh would’ve expected it when he’s taken off his coat and passed it on over to Faris. He pulls his knees up to his chest and takes another drag.

“Thanks,” Faris says. He leans back to tip his head up towards the sky, where there’s too much light pollution for anything to be visible in the gaps between the clouds. “I should probably head home soon.”

“You could stay here,” Josh says back. Just as soon as he realises what that sounds like, he adds, “Not like that, but one of us can sleep on the floor, if you don’t mind.”

Faris laughs, short and dry. “D’you need me to stay with you?”

Josh shrugs. Really, he’d rather have Faris with him for a little bit longer so he can keep that nasty nauseous feeling at bay without smoking all that’s left of his fags.

“It’d be nice.”

“Then I’ll stay here.” Faris pulls out his phone and flips it open to check the time, which is still pretty early, not even eight yet. He asks, “Do you work tonight?”

“No, I get Fridays and Saturdays off every week.” Josh stops to shake the string of ash from his fag where it’s built up and take a drag. “To do school work, and so I can go out myself.”

“That’s cool.”

“Yeah. You got work tomorrow?”

“Gallery’s closed on weekends.”

Right, after the answer Josh distinctly remembers Faris saying something similar to that before. He’s got a supervising job at this gallery on campus where he sits at a desk and doodles and occasionally chides someone for running or shouting, which is basically not even a real job at all.

“Perfect,” Josh says. “D’you want to watch another movie later on?”

“Just so long as it’s not _Harry Potter_.”

Faris gives him a weird lopsided smile and stretches his hand out across the bench. Josh takes it.

It’s better, just a little bit.


End file.
